I walked away from the bed and into the living room area. I suspected she thought I was “Mr. Stevens” or Bobby, so I didn’t want to alarm her when she discovered that it was me. I started to speak but remembered my original plan. I shut my eyes and recalled all the details of Margaret’s videos and photos on her cell phone. I even replayed the memory Mr. Freeman had of the night she and Bobby came to the office party.
“Where are you going?” she called from the bed. “Don’t you want to play?”
Once I had a complete mental picture, or as complete as I could get given the fact I’d never met her face to face, I morphed into Margaret Stevens. I was standing by a mirror in the living room when I changed. When I first saw myself in it, I flinched. No matter how often I did it, transforming into someone else always made me feel uneasy. I was wearing the same clothes she wore to the office party.
“I’m not—” I began to speak but realized it was still my voice.
“You okay, honey?” said Beth from the bed. “You’re not still sick. Are you? You don’t sound like yourself.”
I ran the videos through my head again. This time I had it. “I’m not who you think I am,” I said in Margaret’s voice.
Beth got off the bed and took off the blindfold. “What are you doing in here?” she asked.
She flipped on the lights and froze when she saw me standing before her as Margaret. “It’s you. You’re not welcome here. I want you to leave.”
“Who is it you think that I am?” I asked.
“Don’t play innocent, sweetheart,” she said. “You know who you are, and you know what you did. I can’t believe you’d have the audacity to show your face.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “What is that I did?”
“Are you playing games or just stupid? You tried to steal my husband!”
“I did?” I said, not having to pretend to be confused.
“Yes! But I got news for you. He doesn’t love you! In fact, he can’t stand the sight of you! Now get out of our lives before I get really angry! Is that clear enough for you?!”
“By ‘you,’ do you mean Margaret?”
“I’m Margaret, you dumb whore!”
“No. I’m Margaret. I’ll prove it to you.”
I willed an imaginary purse to appear on the coffee table next to me. I perused through it as I surmised a woman might and pulled a wallet out of a variety of items including lipstick, towelettes, and granola bars. I opened the wallet to a driver’s license I conjured and showed it to Beth. It had Margaret’s picture and address on it. Beth studied it for a moment and then knocked the wallet out of my hand.
“That’s obviously a fake!” she said. “Now get out of here!”
“Listen,” I said. “I know this is a lot for you to take right now. I’m not trying to upset you. But there’s something I need to tell you.”
“I don’t want to hear it,” she whispered.
“Your name is Beth Martin and you’re in a—”
“I said I don’t want to hear it!” she shouted and stormed out of the room.
When she got into the hallway, she froze in her tracks. She saw something that made her turn around and come back into the room. She sat down on the couch in the living room area, looking frightened. I walked out into the hallway to see what had affected her so much. Sitting on the floor by “Room 7,” Little Beth had her head down and held her face in her hands. I stepped back into the room and Beth looked at me pleadingly.
“Is she gone?” she asked like she’d just seen the boogeyman.
“I’m afraid not,” I said. “You’re in a coma, Beth. I hate to tell you this way, but I need your help.”
“I told you. I’m Margaret.”
“Neither of us is Margaret.” I morphed into myself. “Margaret’s dead,” I said with my own voice.
“It’s you. How did you do that?”
“Where we are it’s pretty easy. This is all happening inside your head. You’ve been telling yourself you’re Margaret but you’re not.” I conjured up another driver’s license.
“Look…” I showed her a picture of herself. “This is you. Beth Martin.” I pointed to her address.
“That’s where you live. Your parents are Edward and Allie Martin.”
She took the license out of my hand and stared at it intently. She got up from the couch and saw herself in the mirror. She compared her reflection to the photo on the ID. As if she’d had an epiphany, she dropped the license to the floor. She realized she was scantily clad and covered herself with her hands. She rushed into the bathroom and shut the door behind her. I didn’t know whether she’d come out or disappear into another dimension. Fortunately, she came out a few seconds later wearing a bathrobe. She walked back to the couch and sat down again. I gave her a moment. After all, it was a hell of a lot to process.
“So, none of this is real?” she asked.
“No,” I answered.
“Are you real?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get here?”
“I projected into your mind. I’m a psychic.”
“That seems kind of intrusive. Doesn’t it?”
“It was the only way to talk to you.”
“What about that little girl in the hall? Is she real?”
“She was.”
“She’s me. Isn’t she?”
“She’s your younger self.”
“And Margaret? Is she really dead?”
“Yes.”
“How did she die?”
“She committed suicide.”
“Oh, my God. How long have I been in a coma?”
“Two weeks.”
I sat down in an empty chair across from her. I knew the situation was delicate but couldn’t tell how much. There was always a chance she might have a negative reaction and turn into the crimson creature again. I made sure to maintain a calm demeanor, the way one would with a fragile child that breaks down when he or she feels helpless or threatened. She appeared in control, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
“Did you pretend to be my husband?” she inquired.
“I did. Your parents as well.”
“Why?”
“I was hoping to trigger something that might help you realize who you really were. It didn’t work very well.”
“I suppose not. So that was you I kissed on the veranda?”
I tried to maintain a professional composure and not blush. “It was.” I felt my face turn red despite my efforts. “I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have misled you.”
“Somehow I knew all along. I wanted to believe you were him just like part of me wanted to believe I was Margaret.”
“Why would you want to be Margaret?”
She hesitated. “She and Bobby were having an affair,” she said finally. “It had been going on for as long as we were engaged. Maybe longer. I was going to confront him about it but…I can’t remember if I did or not. I guess I wasn’t ready to accept that it was over.”
“So, when I looked like Margaret and you said I tried to steal your husband, you really meant fiancé?”
“I guess so.”
“Would Bobby try to have you killed?”
“No! Why would you ask that?!”
“You were attacked and left for dead on the way back to Louisville from your parents’ house. Do you remember that at all?”
“No.”
“That’s why you’re in a coma. I came here to find out who did it.”
“Bobby’s a liar and a cheater, but he isn’t a murderer. Are you sure I wasn’t in an accident?”
“I’m positive. They discovered you in a field off the highway. You’d been beaten.”
“Who would’ve done that?”
“I don’t know. I thought maybe you had some ideas.”
She ruminated for a moment. “Damnit. I just realized I missed my deadline.”
“What deadline?”
“I’m a curator at an art gallery in Louisville. I was supposed to make a proposal to the directors.”
“I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“Not these people. They’re real assholes.” She sprung up from the couch. “So how do I get out of here?”
“Listen, I realize this is a lot to take in. Maybe we should focus on who tried to kill you for now.”
“Alright. Fine. Get me out of here, and we’ll figure it out together.”
“I appreciate your eagerness, but it’s not that simple.”
“Sure, it is. I’ll just wake up, and we can retrace my steps. Maybe I could remember something.”
“I don’t think you can just wake yourself up. You’re in pretty bad shape.”
“Sure, I can.”
Beth went to the door and stepped outside. I followed her into the hallway. Her younger self was no longer sitting in the hallway. She marched down the hall and into the lobby area.
There were actually people again but nothing quite like the time when I had to chase down the imaginary priest that was going to perform a funeral service for a human-sized cocoon. Beth stormed the front desk.
“I want to wake up,” she told the man behind the counter.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You want to what?”
“Wake up,” she repeated.
“Are you sleepwalking?” he asked.
“No. As a matter of fact, I’m very much alert right now.”
“I think what she’s saying is,” I chimed in, “she’s ready to check out.”
“Oh, of course,” he said. “Allow me to review your record.” He started typing quickly into a keyboard attached to a table top computer. “Oh, no. You can’t check out. It says here your stay is indefinite.”
“Are you sure? Check it again. My name’s Beth Martin.”
He smiled at her sympathetically and then turned the computer monitor so we could see it. “You see.” He pointed to her name in black letters on an otherwise white screen. Next to her name it said, “Permanent Resident.” “I’m afraid my hands are tied on this one.”
She turned to me. “Can’t you do something?”
“What is it you want me to do?”
“You said you projected into my mind. Can’t you take me with you when you leave?”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Well, there has to be something!” She moved away from the desk and saw Grilax and Grulax, the two half-human, half-alien “security guards” standing near the front door. “I’ve seen them before. What the hell are they?”
I saw no reason not to be completely honest with her. “When you thought we were Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, you told me we made them together,” I answered.
“I said that?! I don’t remember saying that!”
She hurried past me and nearly knocked down an older woman using a walker. I turned around to see that Grilax and Grulax were watching us. I gave them a thumbs up, hoping that would keep them at bay. It didn’t. They moseyed toward me on their tentacles as Beth pushed the door open onto the veranda. I went out to meet her. A familiar waiter approached her as she frantically looked around for an exit strategy.
“Would you like your regular table, madam?” he asked.
“Hell, no!” she told him as she strode over to the end of the veranda and surveyed the golf course. “There has to be a way out of here!”
The waiter saw me and cleared his throat. “Hello, sir. Do you have a reservation?”
“I’m with her,” I replied, motioning to Beth.
“Of course, you are,” he said and then walked away.
Grilax and Grulax appeared at the door. The few patrons at the restaurant took cover under their tables when they saw them as if they were in a western and a gunfight was about to occur. I went over to Beth with the intention of trying to calm her down. Grilax and Grulax followed close behind. I held up my finger asking them for a moment before they treated us like a security issue. I’d already been ejected once. I didn’t want it to happen again.
“They’re going to throw us out if you don’t tone it down a little,” I told her.
“That’s what I want them to do!” She turned around to face the creatures. “Go ahead! Throw me out, you octopus wannabes!”
Grilax and Grulax glanced at each other and shrugged. They shuffled over to us but only grabbed hold of me. They began to pull me away from Beth, trying to drag me toward the lobby area. Beth shoved them off me, and they both let out high-pitched, pig-like squeals. They slowly went back inside like two dogs with their tails between their legs. Or, in this case, tentacles.
“You see!” she said. “They were going to throw you out! Not me! I’m stuck here!”
She whisked past me and ran down the steps to the ground below. She zigzagged across the golf course and stopped when she came to the static barrier enclosing the whole place. I caught up with her as she stood before it bewilderedly. She tried pushing through it, but it resisted her touch the same as it had with me earlier. She even kicked it, but her foot bounced off and she nearly toppled over onto the ground.
“What the hell is it?” she asked.
“Something you built with your mind,” I answered.
“Why would I do that?”
I shrugged. “Maybe it’s protecting you from something.”
“Fine! I’ll just make it go away!” She closed her eyes tightly. After a few seconds, she opened them, but the force field remained. “Damnit!”
“There might be another option.”
“To make me wake up?!”
“No. To get you out of this place. If your mind is holding you hostage, perhaps we can trick it into releasing you.”
“How?”
“By becoming someone else.”